


Loves Me, Loves Me Not

by AutumnDiesIrae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - Musicians, Alternate Universe - Rockabilly, Bars and Pubs, Caretaking, Crush at First Sight, Crushes, Cutesy, Diners, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fights, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Racism, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Museums, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Romantic Fluff, Secret Crush, Shyness, Skating, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:04:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnDiesIrae/pseuds/AutumnDiesIrae
Summary: Lúcio was pretty. Maybe it was wrong to think that. Scratch that - it definitely was wrong. Jamie bit his lip to think of what the greasers would do to him if they found out he had feelings for another man. What they would do to Lúcio. As such, he kept it quiet. Smoking on the bridge in the park and picking at daisy petals.He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.It didn't matter the day - the final petal always spelled the same fate. Loves me not.Fluffy Rockabilly AU Boombox (Jazzy Lúcio/Greaser Junkrat) one-shot.





	Loves Me, Loves Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a fluffy Boombox one-shot, I hope you all enjoy!

Jamison had been in the bar for a while before Lúcio showed up. Nursing a bit of whiskey, he had glanced over past heavy-lidded eyes to see Lúcio and his date. Some girl he had picked up from downtown. The greaser rolled his eyes.

Distaste was just a disguise for something else. Some feeling that had brewed in Jamie's gut since he had first seen the jazz musician playing his saxophone on stage at the bar. He had sat there amongst his fellow greasers, barely listening. Just watching Lúcio play.

"What's his name?" he had eventually asked.

"The jazzy? Lucius or some shit."

"No, no, it's Lucien."

"You're both dumb, it's just Louis."

Their answer had been given when the cruiser girl, Hana, came by with some Brazilian drink.

"Great job, Lúcio!" she had said, handing him the drink.

_Lúcio, huh. Nice._

Jamie had tried to talk to him. Thinking himself cool and slick, he had offered to buy the musician a drink, expecting him to grin and accept.

The look of disgust that has crossed across Lúcio's face had burned itself into Jamie's brain.

"I don't hang with greaseballs," he had said, snappishly. Jamie had winced and backed off, face burning in shame.

One would think such a rejection would have deflated any affection the blond would have for Lúcio, and yet...it seemed to only bolster it. Jamie knew why the musician wouldn't want to associate himself with greasers, for sure. Even he had begun to pick up on the comments the gang muttered under their breath about "the likes of that jazzy". He had, at one point, burst out and told them to knock it off. Told them it was wrong to think that way. He still had the bruises on his neck from when the boss had grabbed him and questioned where his loyalties lay. Just another mark of ugliness to add to the rest.

He had no chance, Jamie had figured that from the start. A lopsided lanky blond with two limbs missing, fingers always bandaged from little clumsy nicks and cuts, hunched over because of how badly he'd messed up his own spine. His hair was dried out and reeking of smoke, his heavily-lined eyes were always wide and erratic.

In other words - ugly.

Lúcio was pretty. Maybe it was wrong to think that. Scratch that - it _definitely_ was wrong. Jamie bit his lip to think of what the greasers would do to him if they found out he had feelings for another man. What they would do to Lúcio. As such, he kept it quiet. [Smoking on the bridge in the park and picking at daisy petals.](http://artumndiesirae.tumblr.com/post/163005850039/he-loves-mehe-loves-me-not-jamison-murmured)

_He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not._

It didn't matter the day - the final petal always spelled the same fate. _Loves me not._

Jamison snapped out of his stupor when he saw Lúcio getting up and going to the bathroom, adjusting the brim of his hat as he walked. The girl watched him go, pouting visibly.

Another man came over, rubbing her shoulders. She grinned and leaned against him, lips moving. Jamie couldn't tell at first what she was saying, but when the man beckoned her with him to leave, he registered that she was not going to stay and wait for the musician. He felt like he should say something, call out this woman's infidelity, but the words caught in his throat.

When Lúcio came back, he looked around in confusion for his date, before asking the bartender if he had seen her. He made some motions that Jamie interpreted as a description of the man - big, tall, and muscular - and Lúcio's shoulders slumped. He sunk into the plush seat, burying his head in his hands as the barkeep pushed over another drink for him.

Jamison felt awful. He wanted desperately to say something, but he was far too scared of rejection to speak up. Lúcio's expression of disgust from the day they had first met was still seared into his brain.

But he wanted desperately to comfort the musician...

Feeling his legs moving, seemingly of their own accord, he hobbled over, standing next to Lúcio and looking at him for a long while, trying to find the words. Lúcio had not noticed him, head still buried in his hands.

"...hey," he finally managed. Lúcio jerked his head up and glared at him, eyes tinged with red.

"The hell do you want?"

"I...I saw what happened...with...with yer date..."

"So now you greaseballs are stalking me, huh. Great."

"No, no, it's...it's just me tonight...I..."

Jamison was struggling to find the words.

"...what's yer favorite drink? Can I buy ya it? Make yer night a little better?"

Lúcio glared at him for a while, before finally speaking with a devilish smirk.

"Mai Tai."

Jamie blanched.

"I...uh..."

He fumbled in his pockets, not sure if he had the money for such an expensive drink. Lúcio must have picked it expecting him to confess he didn't have the funds and give the musician an excuse to tell him to bugger off. He pulled out a handful of cash, sorting through it, before finding to his relief he had barely enough. No more drinks for himself today, though.

He pushed the crumpled green bills over to the bartender.

"One...one Mai Tai, please..."

The bartender smiled, taking the cash.

"Treating yourself tonight, Jamison?"

"Oh, no, it's not for me, it's for...it's for him," the greaser mumbled, jerking his head over to Lúcio, who was staring at him with a stunned expression.

"You're a nice guy, Jamie," the barkeep said, before bringing the completed Mai Tai over to Lúcio, "One Mai Tai."

Lúcio stared at the drink, visibly shocked, before looking over to Jamison. He was rocking back and forth on his mismatched legs, the tied right sleeve of his leather jacket swinging absently.

"...you didn't have to do that."

"Ya wanted it, right?"

"I...I was being...I..."

Lúcio seemed embarrassed to admit he had been trying to snidely tell the greaser to leave. He didn't need to - Jamie got the picture.

"I...I hope ya have a better night..." Jamie said, turning to leave.

"W-wait, hold on..."

The blond glanced back, confused.

"Hey...I...I kinda cheated you out of your money...maybe I can buy you something too?"

"Ya don't have to, mate."

"I...it's only fair. Sit with me."

Lúcio patted the stool next to him, looking at Jamie with a small smile. Shyly, the greaser sunk into the chair next to him.

"...what happened to your neck?"

Jamie touched the bruises with his fingertips.

"Um...it's...uh..."

Jamie was suddenly possessed by a fear that if he told Lúcio the truth, the musician would think him a suck-up, or worse, a liar.

"...got into a fight..." he said. It wasn't entirely wrong.

"What about?"

Jamie swallowed.

"...please don't think me a loser...but...I told me...me fellow greaser blokes t'not...say bad things about ya...ya and yer...um..."

He was struggling to find the words, feeling like he was walking on eggshells. He had barely managed to get the man to look at him without a frown, and now he felt like he was about to sabotage it again.

"...you told the greasers that? And they let you live?"

"I...yeah, I...they got mad 'bout it, but -"

"That's really kindhearted of you."

Jamie's ears warmed.

"P...pardon?"

"Not many people would tell the greasers they're wrong about something. Especially not someone from their ranks. You…really aren't like the others. I…I guess Hana was right."

Jamie felt flustered. The cruiser chick and the musician had been talking about him? How did she even know what had happened?

Well, she did take pictures of everything. Being a photographer for the local newspaper had its perks.

Lúcio was finishing his Mai Tai.

"Are you sure you don't want me to buy you anything...?"

"No, no, it's fine...really..."

Lúcio was looking past him a bit. Jamison followed his gaze and looked at a nearby table, where two older men were talking, one twirling a knife. A rival gang.

"...can you walk me home?"

There was a weird, desperate edge in Lúcio's voice that made Jamie's heart ache.

"Of course, of course...I don't like 'em either...gave one of me brothers a bad head wound..."

The two left the bar and walked home, Lúcio fiddling with his sunglasses in his hands and glancing back behind them repeatedly.

"...ya have problems with guys like that?"

"I can handle myself, you know," Lúcio huffed, trying to look tough. It was cute.

"Ya don't have to act like that. We're allowed to be scared. No one should bother ya, or anyone else."

Lúcio looked up at him.

"...sometimes...just...usually Hana walks me home...I haven't really had much thrown at me other than insults, but it's still not...not a good feeling..."

"Tell 'em Fawkes has yer back. If they mess with ya, I'll make sure they pay."

Lúcio's face seemed to redden a bit.

"...I'll keep that in mind..."

The musician lived in an apartment building, quite lavish compared to the hidey-hole the greasers called home. Jamison wondered what it was like to sleep on a soft bed instead of awkwardly curled up on a rotten armchair that had rat bites all over it.

"Thank you for...walking me home...and for the drink..."

"Yeah, it's no big deal. I hope you're not still stingin' from the girl leavin'."

Lúcio snorted.

"She can go play him too, for all I care. Could have just told me she wasn't interested when I asked."

Jamison smiled a bit, trying to ignore the weird sunken feeling in his chest.

"I'll see ya 'round the bar, then..." he said, turning to go, pulling up his jacket collar.

"...what's your name?"

Jamie paused, looking back.

"Huh?"

"I realized I...never asked your name..."

"...Jamison. Or Jamie for short."

"Jamie..." Lúcio nodded, "Listen, Jamie...I'm sorry for...judging...I've had bad experiences with greasers before, and I thought...but you're not like them. Not at all."

Jamie felt his face grow hot.

"I, uh...ta, Lú. C-can I call ya that? Lú?"

Lúcio smiled.

"Yeah. Yeah, you can. You have a good night, okay?"

Jamison nodded.

* * *

 

Jamison felt a lot more welcome in the bar after that. Whenever Lúcio was playing his trumpet or saxophone on stage, he would smile down at the blond, who was usually sitting in the corner with his fellow greasers.

Jamie ended up coming back to the bar around closing time on the days Lúcio worked, to walk him home again. At first Lúcio had protested, but after seeing how Jamie's presence seemed to make the people who normally heckled him on his walk home shut up, he obliged. Sometimes, though, one would still try. Slinging some nasty comment in their direction. Lúcio would wince, keeping his head down, but it made Jamie's heart ache to think he had for years had to endure this without retaliation. He would jerk his head back and threaten the harrier that if they spoke again he'd rip their throat out, and that seemed to make them quiet.

Not always, though. A group of men were whooping and hollering, half drunk, when they spotted Jamie leading the musician home. The biggest one, probably the leader, proceeded to hurl the most disgusting slurs at Lúcio that Jamie's ears had ever been cursed to hear. The greaser felt Lúcio's hands grip his left arm tight, clearly afraid.

"The fuck are ya on about?!" Jamie snarled at the drunken buffoons, "Ya kiss yer mamas with those mouths?!"

"Jamie, no, please -"

But Jamison had been pushed too far, striding right over and shoving the leader hard. He was taller than him, but less muscular.

"Oi! Don't write checks your fists can't cash, kid!" slurred the leader, billowing his beer-scented breath towards the blond. He could have said a million things there, but chose instead to slam his fist hard into the leader's jaw, knocking him to the ground.

The fight that broke up was hardly a fair one - one tall lanky greaser against four angry drunken men. And yet, somehow, Jamie came out of it the victor, knocking all four out. He certainly wasn't in good shape though. Nose gushing blood, right eye bruised and swelling, staggering a bit from disorientation.

"J...Jamie -!"

Lúcio bolted over, supporting him.

"W-why did you do that?!"

"Ya heard what they called ya!"

"Yes, but - god...come on!"

Lúcio roped Jamie's left arm around his shoulders and supported him, carefully leading the battered blond back to his apartment.

Jamison awkwardly leaned against a wall, swallowing nervously as Lúcio unlocked his door. This was maybe the sixth or seventh time he had brought Lúcio home, but he had never crossed the threshold of the building before. Now he was about to be in the musician's house.

_Stop actin' like anythin' is gonna happen. No way he likes ya like that. You're the weird one, not him._

"Come on."

Jamie gingerly stepped into the apartment, looking around. It was well lit, with lots of music-related memorabilia scattered around. Posters of famous jazz musicians, vinyl records, even a keyboard sitting in a suitcase in the corner.

"Ya really like music, huh..."

"Of course, it's my life...come on, sit."

Lúcio helped Jamie into a chair, running to the kitchen to get ice and water and a first aid kit. Jamie ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the blood. There were red splotches on his white tanktop too. Fuck, was his nose broken? Hopefully not. Maybe it would make him look rugged. Maybe -

"Here, let me see your face."

Jamie looked up and felt Lúcio cupping his face. He had removed his gloves - it was flesh on flesh. Jamie blushed hard, which was a bad thing in this case more than usual because his nose began to bleed again.

"Oh, dear, hang on -"

Lúcio grabbed some napkins and held them to Jamie's nose, carefully drying the blood. Once he was sure it had stopped, he carefully grabbed some antiseptic wipes, cleaning the blond's fat lip and scraped knuckles. Jamie winced a bit from the sting.

"I know, I know, it'll pass...here, put this on your eye."

He handed Jamie a little baggy of ice and water to put against his bruise. The greaser obliged, sitting quietly as Lúcio continued to tend to him.

"...you're good at this..."

Lúcio smiled a bit.

"My dad wanted me to be a doctor. The kind that go to war and stuff, battlefield medics. I tried to learn, but...it wasn't for me...I still remember some things, though."

He carefully looked Jamie over one more time.

"I think that's it..." he said, cupping the taller man's chin with his hand. Jamie's chest felt tight.

There was a sound of shouting below. The two peeked out of the window and found that the drunks were pacing around below, hoping to get the two of them to come out.

"...maybe you should stay the night. I don't want you to deal with them again..."

"I...sure, I'd...I'd like that..."

Lúcio put some pillows and blankets on the couch for Jamison. He offered the greaser a pair of pajamas but Jamie refused politely. It was nearly three in the morning, and both were visibly tired.

"We can go to the diner for breakfast..." Lúcio said with a slight smile. Jamie blushed again.

"That'd be nice..."

Lúcio moved to go to his bedroom, then paused, glancing back.

"...good night, Jamie..."

"N-night..."

The musician quietly shut the door, leaving Jamie sitting in the dark and hugging his knees.

_I'm in love, ain't I. Fuck._

* * *

 

True to his word, Lúcio brought them both to the diner for a late breakfast the next day.

"I don't have work today. Maybe we can...hang out? I have two passes to the museum, Hana and I were gonna go but she's busy at the office..."

_God...is this a date? What are we? How does he see me? Why would he ask that? Is he...flirtin’? No, no, I'm the broken one, not him, he's...he's too perfect..._

"Uh, yeah, I'd...I'd like t'see. Never been to a museum before."

Jamie tried to busy himself with his eggs and bacon. He had forgotten the last time he'd had a meal like this. Most of the time the greasers fed on beer snacks and TV dinners. Hot, homemade food...so tasty...

"You're going to love it. I promise."

A waitress skated over on rollerskates to refill their coffee before gliding off. Lúcio followed her movements. For a split second Jamie felt that awful sinking feeling in his chest, thinking the the musician's gaze was trained on her butt, that he wanted a girl in his life, that -

"I've always wanted skates like those..."

Jamie blinked.

"...skates?"

"Yeah. They look like great fun, don't you think?"

"I...yeah, yeah, they do."

The greaser ran his tongue over his lips. Maybe he could put something together for that.

After their breakfast, the two waited for a bus to take them to the other side of town, to see the art museum. The two sat next to each other, Lúcio gazing out of the window, Jamie absently trying to look anywhere else. His pinky finger kept reaching, trembling, over to Lúcio's hand, laying relaxed on his lap, but he could not bear to touch him. He was far too scared.

The museum was quite engaging. Lúcio spent extra time in the music gallery, looking at old violins and harpsichords with a wide smile. Jamie could not help but feel that amongst all this beautiful art, the best piece on display was the little jazz musician excitedly pouring over the little pamphlet guide and tugging at his hand to come along.

They stopped by the gift shop after. As Lúcio enamored himself with little metal brass instrument pins, Jamie's eyes fell on a pair of bright beautiful rollerskates - white with purple laces and black wheels - sitting on display. He glanced at the clerk, and found to his relief it was one of the people he knew. Not a greaser, but a regular patron of their reefer-selling side business.

"Hey," he murmured.

"Hey, Fawkes. What are _you_ doing here? You don't strike me as a connoisseur of the fine arts."

"Never mind that. How much for the skates?"

"More than you can afford. $50."

Jamison paled.

"Christ, you're killing me here...can I cut ya a deal?"

"I'm listening."

"I'll give ya extra reefers free until the difference is paid off. Deal?"

"I dunno about that. How much can you pay now?"

"Twenty."

"Ugh, you want me to put thirty of my own money into this register? Forget it, Fawkes."

"Funny, I don't think yer boss would wanna know about yer Mary Jane smokin’ habits either, would he?"

The man pursed his lips.

"Just take the damn free reefers, mate."

"Fine. Dunno why you care so much about skates, you don't even have two legs."

"Just give me the damn skates," Jamie grumbled, forking over the $20 he did have. The man carefully removed the skates, packing them into a white box and handing them to the greaser to keep.

Lúcio had wandered back outside, not in a position to afford anything anyway. He was waiting for Jamie when he came out with the box.

"...what's that? Something for your girl?"

"U-uh, no...don't have a girl...anyway, it's for ya. Ya said ya wanted this."

"For me?"

Lúcio opened the box and his eyes widened, a gleeful smile spreading across his face.

"Jamie! They're gorgeous! You didn't have to!"

"Figured they'd...make ya happy..."

"Come on, let's go try them in the park!"

Lúcio grabbed his hand and pulled him along to the nearby park. It was spring. The blossoming trees filled the air with the gentle smell of honey, the bees and butterflies were flying around from flower to flower, and the ducks in the pond were happily quacking as children threw them bread from their picnic sandwiches.

The musician plunked down on a bench, kicking off his shoes and excitedly pulling on the skates.

"Be careful..." Jamie urged.

"How hard can it be?"

Lúcio carelessly pushed himself up, then wobbled hard. Jamie barely caught him when he fell, holding him tight in his arms.

"I told ya to be c-careful..." Jamie grumbled, trying not to betray how hard his heart was thumping, "You're gonna fall and ruin yer pretty face."

"My what?"

_Son of a bitch._

"Nothin', just…careful."

After some time, Lúcio slowly became familiar with how to balance, stop, and turn, and soon was skating literal circles around Jamison, who was just happy to see him having fun. Which he was. Extensively. It filled Jamie with a bittersweet glee to see the musician having so much fun.

Soon, both were tired and hungry.

"Wanna get Italian? There's a nice spaghetti place around here."

Jamie nodded, always eager to spend more time with Lúcio. The two ate a hearty dinner of garlicky breadsticks and authentic ravioli. The greaser had forgotten what a full belly felt like. The two had a glass of wine each, as well. The whole time, the two talked and laughed, but the happiness of the occasion was mingled with sadness and fear in Jamie's gut, knowing it would be ending soon.

They took the bus back to the neighborhood Lúcio lived in. Every step they took, walking that final stretch back to the apartment, was another stab of dread in Jamie's stomach.

"Thank you again for the skates..." Lúcio was saying, hugging the box to his chest and smiling.

"Y-yeah...glad...glad ya like them..."

They had reached the building. Jamie was blinking a little rapidly.

"...h...have a good night, Lú..."

Lúcio paused, hand outstretched and reaching for the handle.

"...you're not coming up?"

Jamie, who was already half-turned to leave, froze.

"U-uh?"

"Don't you wanna come up? We can have tea. Talk a bit more."

Jamie blushed hard.

"...I...I don't want to inconvenience ya..."

"No, no, of course not, it's my pleasure. Come on."

When they got inside, Lúcio put on a kettle and made them both some Earl Grey tea, turning on the TV for some background noise. It was playing an old romantic movie, fuzzy and monochrome. Jamie wasn't paying attention, really, though Lúcio seemed enamored. Each sip of tea seemed to add another knife of anxiety into the blond's chest.

"...g-give me a sec..." he mumbled, pushing himself up and moving, all too quickly, to the bathroom.

"Jamie?" Lúcio called, after, confused. The greaser wasn't listening. He leaned against the tiled wall and sunk to the ground, burying his head in his knees and crying. Cursing himself. Hating himself. Wondering how he let it get this bad. He was so tired of keeping it inside, but he could not bear the rejection if he told the musician. They were friends, he couldn't ruin that friendship, couldn't sabotage what they had. So he cried, dampening his jeans, digging the painted nails of his left hand into his opposing shoulder, wishing he could just stop feeling this stupid feeling. To just be normal.

He heard a knock.

"Jamie? Jamie, are you okay? You're not sick, are you?"

_Yeah, I'm sick. Sick and tired of keepin' all this shame inside me._

"N-no, I'm fine, just a second..." he managed, trying to keep the misery out of his tone. He forced himself to stand, washing his face with cold water to alleviate his red, puffy eyes as much as he could.

He quietly left the bathroom, returning to the living room. Lúcio was sitting on the couch now, his hat and glasses on the table nearby. He looked up at Jamie and his face went from a smile to a concerned frown.

"Where you...crying?"

Jamie scrubbed his face viciously.

"No."

"Your eyes are red."

"I'm fine."

"Jamie -"

"I said I'm fine!"

Lúcio winced, taken aback.

"I...I'm sorry..." Jamie mumbled, not sure if he should sit next to the musician or grab his stuff and leave right there.

"...did I do something wrong...?"

"What? No! No, no, you're - ya haven't done nothin' wrong, Lú, I promise."

"Are you sure...?"

"Yeah, it's...it's all me, I swear."

Lúcio gingerly stretched one hand out to him.

"...sit with me..."

Despite every fibre of his being begging him not to, Jamie obliged, sitting next to Lúcio. His heart was beating at a million miles an hour.

The two sat in silence for a while, watching the movie. Well, the musician was watching. Jamie was just tensely waiting for him to say something. Anything. The silence between them was deafening.

The movie ended, and Lúcio quietly shut off the TV.

"...g...guess I should get g-goin', huh..." Jamie said, moving to get up. Lúcio grabbed his hand.

"...wait...please..."

Jamie sunk back onto the couch, looking at Lúcio. He was certain the blush on his face was incredibly visible, spread across his face and neck. He just could not staring into those soft brown eyes...looking at those luscious full lips...

"...I need to...to ask you something..."

Jamie was rooted to the spot in fear.

"...what?"

"...would...would you...god, this is hard to say...um..."

The blond's brain was in overdrive, thinking of all the possible things Lúcio could be about to ask. He was shaking ever so slightly.

"...would you...still be friends with me if...if I..."

Lúcio swallowed hard, voice dropping to a whisper.

"...if I said I liked you?"

"...w...what?"

"...I like you."

"...as a friend, right? B-because -"

"No...as...as more...than a friend..."

Jamie could feel the embarrassment and shame exuding out of Lúcio's hot face. He was reminded of himself.

"...ya...ya like me? Like, _like_ like?"

Lúcio nodded, crumpling his tie in his hands.

"I know...I know it's wrong, and just...I've been trying to ignore it, b-but...I just -"

"I like ya too."

The words blurted themselves out before Jamie could stop to consider them. Lúcio looked up, stunned.

"...you what?"

"I like ya too. A lot. D-dare I s-say I love ya. Have e-ever seen I saw ya. I just...I didn't...I was scared ya would...ya know...hate me. Ruin our friendship. I just...I couldn't find the...I was..."

Jamie was babbling now, unable to formulate what he was feeling into words, and absolutely weak from relief that Lúcio felt the same.

"I just...ya know, you're so...I couldn't...I wanted to -"

Before he could finish, he was cut off. Lúcio was kissing him. Jamie froze for a second, absolutely flabbergasted, before melting into it, his eyelids sagging down as he cupped the musician's face. He tasted like sweet wine and bitter tea, his lips were soft and gentle, his arms wrapping around Jamie's shoulders needily. Jamie's movements mimicked this desire - his hands found Lúcio's hips, gripping them and pulling the smaller man closer, deepening the kiss. A tear leaked out of his eye, slipping down his cheek. A happy tear.

The two eventually had to break apart, breathing hard. Jamie felt lightheaded from lack of oxygen, panting breathlessly. He became aware Lúcio's face was wet with tears too.

"O-oh, no, Lú, don't cry, please..."

"You have no idea how long I wanted to do that..." the musician said weakly, holding Jamie's hand tightly. The blond was melting from the cuteness.

"Me too, Lú...me too..." he murmured, cupping Lúcio's face and pulling him in again for another kiss. He could feel the smaller man's hands tangle themselves in his greasy blond hair, as his own hands cupped the small of Lúcio's back, desperate to close the gap between them. Their bodies were pressed against each other's. Needy. Loving.

It was borderline instinctual. Jamison pushed Lúcio down onto the couch, kisses growing more ravenous. Lúcio was smiling against his lips, legs wrapping around the blond's hips as his grip on his hair grew tighter. They wanted each other. Badly.

It was slow, quiet. Like they were lost in a quiet haze of love for each other, with Jamie peppering kisses against Lúcio's jawline, Lúcio reciprocating by softly moaning Jamie's name into his neck. Romantic. Loving. Gentle.  _Perfect._

They woke up the next morning in each other's embrace. At first, Jamie was confused why neither had their pants, why Lúcio was sound asleep under his chest. Then it hit him like a bus what had happened. He reached down to pinch his leg, convinced it was a dream, but it wasn't.

His heart soared.

_Lúcio...my Lúcio..._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Any comments/kudos are appreciated greatly, as always.
> 
> Link to my blog: http://autumndiesirae.tumblr.com/  
> Link to my art blog: http://artumndiesirae.tumblr.com/


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